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unholyhelbig · 3 months

Note

Romanov smut??

[This is 18+, if you are a minor DO NOT INTERACT, I will report you.]

Title: Spin Cyle

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanov/Romanoff

Warnings: Top!Natasha, Dom!Nat, Definate Mommy kink, semi-public sex, swearing, fingering (R recieving), derogatory names, pet names, Dom/sub dynamic, finger sucking, slight bimbofication if you squint [lmk if I'm missing anything], horrible grammar.

Summary: Reader is working the overnight shift at the laundromat when a mysterious stranger comes in with motives that are clear from the start.

[A/n: And so what if I have thing for laundromats? They're comforting, okay? I like writing fluff but sometimes you just really have to get in there. ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Spic & Span was one of the only laundromats left in a city that swarmed around a university, so it was always teeming with people. Between classes, students with headphones on and powder laundry soap would occupy the tables that pockmarked the large space.

No washer nor dryer were the same; some were a beautiful turquoise, with rusted patches on the front. Others were a sickly olive green that had once been coveted among housewives. They all seemed to function perfectly despite their age; but it was your job to make sure they did just that.

The usual shift you worked was 8:00pm to 8:00am, and aside from the stray kid here or there, it was mostly a silent endeavor. Since starting six months ago you had torn through at least fifteen novels, and when you grew bored of that, you moved onto movies that would hold your attention until the small bell above the door sounded.

You’d learned quickly that when people were doing their laundry, they were looking for peace. It was a tedious chore and the last thing they needed was someone breathing down their neck. Sometimes, there was the occasional person who was looking to chat, which you obliged to eagerly in order to break the silence.

It had been a clear, but cold, evening when she first came in. With none of the machines in use, the only mechanical buzz came from the vending machine in the corner that offered up stale snack-cakes and off brand soda.

Out of habit, when the bell sounded, you leaned back in the office chair and peaked around the doorframe into the main space. You were designated to the small room that had a desk, and place to sit, but was mainly a storage closet. The mini-fridge was sidled up next to a mop bucket that smelled so thickly of musk, no one tended to use either.

The woman didn’t look familiar to you. Over time you had gotten to know the regulars, and you were certain that you would remember her. Even under the harsh overhead lights, you clocked her beautiful complexion, her focused green eyes as she dug in her pockets for change. Her hair was an electrifying red, lips pursed together in frustration.

She didn’t’ have a laundry basket with her, nor her own soap. It seemed as if she were entirely unprepared to do any type of wash, and that made your fingers twitch nervously. You watched, cheeks heating up, as she stripped her shirt off and loaded it into the machine.

Goosebumps rose on her perfect skin, yet, she didn’t’ seem to mind; and holy shit, she was sporting a tight pack of abs. She shimmied her pants off and you forced yourself to look away. This was wrong. Admiring a gorgeous figure was one thing, but you refused to let your eyes linger.

Instead, you went back to your book, reading the same paragraph over and over again. None of the words were sticking. All you could think about was the curve of the woman’s mouth, how good it would feel to have it kiss every inch of your body, leaving little bruises in her wake. You were hopeless.

“Excuse me?”

The book flew from your hands, crashing onto the linoleum as you placed both feet firmly on the floor. She had been quiet in her endeavor to find you, to find anyone. It was nearly unnerving how she had wandered over undetected.

She was clad in a black lace bra and a pair of sweatpants that hugged her tightly and left little to the imagination. The amount of skin she was showing didn’t seem to bother her as much as it had flustered you.

“I think the soap dispenser ate my quarters.”

“Yeah, yes, uh” You shot to your feet at a dizzying speed “it does that. I have… key.”

She lifted both of her eyebrows at you, and you swore that you saw her smirk. You scooted past her, and she made no attempt to move. You could feel her body heat, your front pressing against hers. You did your best to mentally scold yourself for the reaction your body had to the proximity of hers. She smelled like vanilla, like something more biting that you couldn’t place your finger on. The stranger tracked your every movement.

“Just you tonight?” She asked, voice lilted.

You hummed nervously in response before heading over the small manual vending machine that would dispense little packets of soap if you had chosen to use it on the right day. She followed closely behind you, and you felt her heated stare as you unlocked the case.

“Pick your poison.”

“Mm, what do you recommend?”

“Um,” You turned, her eyes were glinting mischievously, arms crossed over her chest. It was almost painful keeping yourself modest in this situation. You refused to let them wander, but squeezed your thighs together to dispel the thoughts. “Tide.”

“You’re a shy little thing, aren’t you?”

The woman reached forward and grabbed the suggested package. She didn’t’ wait for your response. Instead, she sauntered back over to her machine.

Your mouth was suddenly incredibly dry, and it was hard to lock the soap back up without fumbling. You’d dropped the keys twice before picking them up and succeeding in your task. Building up the confidence, you turned to ask if the woman needed anything else, but were once again, stilled in your movements.

She shimmied out of her sweatpants in a painstakingly slow manner. It was deliberate, you were sure, and if you weren’t than the salacious eye contact she made with you while straightening up and throwing her sweatpants in with the rest of her load confirmed it.

She was wearing the slightest bit of fabric in a black lace that matched her bra. Your eyes betrayed you, scouring her head to toe for any imperfection, but you found none. She was utterly perfect.

This had to be some type of test. There were hidden cameras somewhere and your overnight job that paid you a measly 7.50 an hour was trying to test your morals. This was the devil, and she was in lingerie, lilting her head at you expectantly.

“Damn it all,” She cooed, frowning down at the machine “It seems I don’t know how to work this thing at all. Every machine is different, you know? I might need a little help.”

Fuck.

You must not have moved because a few moments later she let out a breathy chuckle. “That is your job, isn’t it?”

“Certainly.”

She smelled like spiced coffee, something you caught a whiff of because she didn’t attempt to step back when you joined her. There was an immense body heat radiating from her, and you fought back a whimper when her hand touched the base of your spine. She was peering over your shoulder. She simply hadn’t pressed start- but you weren’t going to tell her that.

Instead, you savored the sparingly tantalizing touch and hit the button yourself. A low whirring filled the room. It was a sound that you were more than familiar with. The cycles of the washing machine were counted as easily as your own breaths.

“Dense, aren’t you?”

“hmm?”

You felt your cheeks redden as you turned to face her. Your back was flush against the machine, replacing her hand on your spine. You instantly missed her touch. She was so close to you now, but still took another step closer as if you could climb into the washer to avoid her.

“Sweet girl, I’ve thrown every hint at you in the book.” Her fingers came up to the collar of your shirt, dancing at its hem, right past the fabric until they left blazing trails on your collarbone. You clenched your eyes shut, letting out a shuttered exhale. “While I do love a woman with manners, must I ask?”

“I’m not sure I… understand.”

She whispered against your lips, not quite touching “You’re much too tightly wound, darling. Do you want mommy to take care of you?”

No one has ever asked you this before. Most of your partners, while satisfying, wouldn’t dare murmur anything close to what this stranger had just said. And you were much too shy to ask. Instead, you settled for spicy romance novels, and a magic wand that never seemed to itch that insatiable scratch.

“Don’t be so shy now. I saw the novel you were reading earlier. It’s just such a coincidence that it’s just the two of us here.”

Your forehead was pressed against hers and you stared into intense fern-colored eyes. God, you wanted her to take you right here, right now. There was something much too scandalous about fucking in the open, a feeling that you wanted to capture and savor.

“All you have to do is ask.”

You swore there was a slight Russian lilt to her voice. The more she got worked up, the more in was shining through. Her breath was quickening in pace with yours, the proximity of her making you press your thighs together to quell the excitement that threatened to drip through the fabric of your pants.

“Please,”

Her hand came up and gripped your chin in a fluid movement, manicured fingers squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. “Please what, Kotenok? What do you need from mommy?”

“Touch me,” It came out as a whimper that was much too desperate for you liking, “I need to feel you.”

An animalistic growl rumbled in her throat before she pushed her mouth against yours in a bruising kiss. You parted your lips, groans muffled by her tongue swirling around your mouth. She tasted like coffee, the same you had smelled earlier.

She reached down and ripped your shirt open, the pearlescent buttons popping away and scattering under the many machines around you both. You didn’t have much time to protest the destruction of your shirt before she palmed your breasts.

There was a mischievous look in her eyes at the front latching bra you wore. “Wow, you really are a little desperate slut, aren’t you?”

She unhooked and discarded the garment before you could get out more than a hungry noise. Her lips attached to one of your nipples, her hand grasping the other breast and giving it an almost-painful squeeze. You arched your back, pushing more of yourself into her hot mouth. Her tongue licked away the goosebumps raising against your skin in response to her ministrations.

You would have done just about anything for her at this moment, her fingers delicately ghosting over your stomach at the waistline of your jeans. Each shuttered breath pushed you closer to her.

In a swift movement she lifted you onto the top of the washing machine. You weren’t prepared for the bout of strength, nor the spin cycle that was happening below you. Another whimper escaped you and she looked at you with a wolfish smile.

“Oh, sweetie, don’t you dare think about cuming on top of an appliance.” She squeezed your hip and you took the cue to lift yourself enough for her to pull your jeans down and discard them with your panties. “Though, it appears your wet enough at the idea.”

A downright beautiful woman had you sweating and naked on top of a washing machine, promising to take care of your every need, no matter how salacious it was. Of course you were wet, dripping, actually.

Still, you flushed when she worked a single finger up your slit, testing it for herself. You shivered at the simple gesture, falling close to her. You felt her chuckle at your expense. “Mm, Kotenok, so desperate.”

Her thumb brushed against your cheek, you could smell your own sex on her fingers. She’d barely touched you, yet they were soaked. They traced your lips and you parted them on the silent command. There was a satisfied look on her eyes, at how easily you had folded for her.

You sucked her fingers, never breaking eye contact. Her stare was starving. “God, you’d look amazing choking on my strap, darling. I’m sure it’d stretch you out nicely.”

You groaned against her fingers, something that sounded along the lines of ‘fuck’ escaped you. Her other hand dipped lower, a gentle touch brushing against your clit. Your breath hitched, and you fell forward, you head on her shoulder.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you garbled, careful not to bite down on her fingers, but thankful that they muffled your expletives. “I want to cum.”

“Mm, but darling, you have to let mommy have her way with you, no matter how long it takes. That’s what good little whores do. That’s what toys do.”

God, you’d do exactly that, anything to sate the need that made you want to buck desperately against the machine under you. It’s vibrations were slowing, but that didn’t stop your crude wanting to climax.

Without warning, the woman inserted a single digit into you. A gasp sounded around her fingers. She curled her touch inside of you and you pressed further into her. A fine sheen of sweat coated you both, the laundromat hot during the late summer night.

“You’re so tight.” She chuckled again, “Are you sure you can handle another?”

“Yes,”

“Yes what, pet?”

“Yes… Mommy.”

She was conditioning you with her words, and that much was clear, but you didn’t seem to care. This stranger had sauntered into your place of work and now had you under her full command with a few simple touches and an effective edging technique.

Another finger pushed into you, and you started to push down further into her. You weren’t sure what she saw in you that made her approach you like this. It had to be more than the novel, plenty of people indulged in smut. Maybe it was the desperation- your need to please in the most mundane of situations.

“Good girl,” she growled against the small of your neck, finally pulling her fingers from your swollen lips. You missed their taste, their feel against your tongue. “I’m sure you can handle a third, you desperate little slut.”

“I can,” You stuttered, tightening around her as she did just as promised. She flexed them inside you, drawing a whorish moan from the back of your throat. The woman started to pump slowly, at first, in and out of you until you felt something build in your core.

You hugged her close, the scratchy fabric of her bra pressing against your nipples, drawing them to points with their expert pressure. The sensation was phenomenal, something you never wanted to end. You hugged her close, your nails digging into the warm expanse of her back.

“Ask nicely, sweet girl.” She growled in your ear.

“Can I please cum?” You clenched your eyes shut, she quickened her pace, the word came out broken, but you didn’t care if you sounded like you were pleading, you absolutely were. “please. I’ll do anything.”

You could feel her smile against your shoulder “Go on, slut. Cum all over Mommy’s fingers.”

Her declaration was all you needed to finally give in to her attentive movements. The feeling that was building so deliciously in your core finally released in the most mind-boggling orgasm you had ever had. You silenced your own scream in her shoulder, but it could only do so much. You were thankful it was just the two of you in here, or your shame may have overtaken you.

She continued to pump in and out of you with her fingers, flexing and curling them expertly as you rode out your climax. You were shaking against her, nearly crying into the small of her neck when she pulled out of you entirely, wiping the slick on her fingers against your thighs.

Perhaps too kindly, she let you breathe against her for a moment, catching your bearings, her hand dragging against your bare back with a comforting amount of pressure. She was proud of herself, that much was clear in her movements. She knew in that moment that she was the best you had ever had; quite possibly the one person who you’d compare all the rest to.

The washer let out an unceremonious beep that had you chuckling, finally pulling back enough to see the woman’s face, shocked to see a bit of admiration behind her eyes. She lifted a perfectly sculpted brow at you.

“Hm,” she hummed, giving you a dazzlingly genuine smile. “I guess the spin cycle is over.”

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff x female reader #Natasha Romanov x you #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Natasha Romanov x reader #Natasha Romanov x female reader #Marvel imagine #Black Widow #Request

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edenalieth · 5 months

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i want to believe in forever

Pairing: Seungmin x reader

Genre: angst, hint of fluff

Warnings: none

Summary: Seungmin wants to move on from his heartbreak, however the colorful memories of you are holding him back.

Words: 1.3K

A.N: hello guys, cami in the building! it’s my first time writing a seungmin fic (@seungseung-minmin forgive me for not making a cuter one ;v;) it was mostly inspired by the song « the exit » by conan gray which i found really beautiful and true. sorry for the possible mistakes. hope you enjoy, feedbacks are always welcome! ♡ — 231217

He took another sip of the black coffee he was holding on his hand and grimaced. It was already half cold and far too bitter for his liking. For how long did he stare at those high limestone walls ? Apparently long enough for his coffee to turn bad. Spotting the closest bin, he threw the drink away, watching it fall as the lid opened spreading the brown liquid. The winter breeze made him shiver and he buried his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat, trying to warm them up.

« You can do this, Kim Seungmin », the brown haired boy thought to himself.

He climbed the stairs silently until he reached the ticket office. A young girl was reading. She was probably just starting her university course and needed this job to gain some money seeing her bored expression. She barely looked at Seungmin before nonchalantly putting down her book with a barely hidden sigh.

« What can I do for you ? » she asked, visibly annoyed to be interrupted.

Seungmin cleared his throat « Hmm, one adult ticket please. »

He was tapping on the small counter with his fingertips, nervous. He was about to tell her that he had changed his mind and turn around but he had promised himself he would do this. It was necessary. Even if it hurt. He knew, he needed to detach his mind and feelings from this place and many others.

« What is this book about ? » he said, trying some small talk while she was preparing the ticket. She put one out of the drawer of her desk and handed it to him, announcing the price. « Just a regular thriller. » Nothing more, nothing less. He paid and left without further ado. He was sure that, if you had been there, you would have managed to pick that girl’s interest, even just a little. That’s how you were, solar, attracting people around you like a magnet. However, you hadn’t been by his side for months now, he had to move on.

When he entered the familiar hall, he was greeted by the unique scent of museum and all its splendor. Soon, he was surrounded by history and felt so little and insignifiant, as well as mesmerized by the beauty of those masterpieces he had seen so many times with you. When you used to call yourselves « us », you had made a ritual to visit this place once a month. The museum was big enough for you to always discover small details you hadn’t seen before or to explore the temporary exhibition. Since your breakup, he avoided this place like the plague. Yet here he was, feeling his heart clenching as he looked at the paintings. One of your favorite hobby was to tell him stories when you analyzed a canvas. Your imagination was overflowing and never missed to make him laugh, which sometimes made you incur the wrath of the visitors and security. No one was here to make him laugh today and loneliness weighed heavily on his shoulders. He didn’t have this talent. He would just skim through the description next to it. Colors seemed dull compared to the vivid memories of you, scarring his heart mercilessly. He felt his throat getting tight. He had chosen the museum to start his healing journey because he knew he wouldn’t be able to cry without being heard. He had shed tears more than he would even admit. Was it truly helping though ? Or what is it just him blowing on the embers of your lost love.

He sat down on the leathered bench, facing your favorite art. It was a pretty simple one, a cottage on the countryside, using impressionism technique. The first time you saw it, you went strangely quiet. You were like absorbed by it. He remembered how you leaned on his shoulder, intertwining your fingers with his. « I can picture us living there. » you had softly whispered. « It would be the embodiment of our love, our safe place. Growing old together, laughs of our kids and grand-kids filling the rooms. Am I allowed to dream about this ? » your voice had seemed insecure, seeing you vulnerable like that was rare. « Yes and it will be our dream from now on. » he had replied, brushing his nose against yours before tenderly kissing you. Warmth had filled his body, his heart melting like ice under a scorching sun, your touch permanently marking his skin. A dream. Was it all it had been ? Just something made up by his cruel mind ? No. He still could remember the sensation of your skin on his, the scent of your shampoo, the little habits you had, the sound of your giggle.

Recalling these memories was like torture. The grip he had on the bench became stronger, his knuckles turning white. If only he had noticed how left out you felt sometimes. Maybe, you would be next to him, still daydreaming about your perfect house. Or, perhaps, you just weren’t meant to build one together. This thought turned his vision into blurry shapes. « Shit ». He didn’t want to cry in public. He stood up hastily and looked for the exit. Wandering between the corridors, his steps echoing on the cold ground, the artworks seemed like moving stains. It was as if the walls were tightening around him and he was tempted to rush out of here to get some air. However, his run was abruptly stopped when the object of his obvious desire showed up. You.

You were there. Your arm around the waist of someone who wasn’t him. His mind went blank for a second. It couldn’t be, right ? He swallowed the sobs that were trying to escape his throat, his hands shaking. He thought you were both sharing the same wounds, that you were still mourning your old feelings. His were surely not buried yet. Still, there was no mistaken. You looked happier now and you had already found someone to miss. He wanted to let himself drown into the abyss of his sorrow. He almost called out your name, every single letter which used to roll on his tongue like honey, addictive like a drug, tasted sour. He had to leash his heart not to break down and try to get you back again. He had tried but you already had built up a wall to protect your opened wounds. His were still raw.

Were you going to tell this man the same stories you had told him ? Did your « I » became a « we » when you met him ? In fact, he didn’t want to know. He wanted to forget you for a time, to get strong enough to be able to talk about you as a young love that bloomed too fast and wilted in the process. He couldn’t blame you for getting everything you wanted.

He stared at you, as your eyes spoke for you, full of some love that used to be his. Each step you took leading you towards your ideal. Deep down your heart, feels for Seungmin were still waiting to be set on fire again. However, the ones you had for your new lover were stronger and you wanted to cherish them. It was a painful sight for Seungmin and he wished someone would rip his heart for it to get numb. He had to let you go. He was still standing at the exit before he opened the glass door.

Immediately, the cold bit his flesh, tears rolling down his cheeks and burning his skin.

« I want to believe in forever » he thought, you just weren’t meant to be his.

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monstersinthecosmos · 2 months

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i want a human AU about Marius as just a really boring guy with an office job, divorced sad sack nearing mid-life crisis realizing he hasn't made a career of his many passions, super strung tight and touch starved and lonely and a friend (probably a weirdo friend like Avi) finally gives him the number for a dom service he should try. And Marius's interest is piqued; he remembers being into stuff like this before the divorce shriveled up his libido, and tbh it's not entirely even ABOUT libido as much as like, maybe he just wants someone to hit him so that he feels something, and then he'll be able to get some sleep.

so anyway a few weeks later after he's worked up the courage and filled out the little survey online and signed all the waivers and submitted his medical documents etc he has his first session with Amadeo; he shells out for a nice hotel room, not sure if it's appropriate to bring this person home, maybe secretly wanting to show off, but Amadeo is so cold and deadpan and doesn't even comment on it, isn't impressed at all. He shows up in jeans and a ratty hoodie and just pushes forward to go change in the bathroom, and comes out in tight black shiny gear, flogger in hand, and after an hour Marius's ears are ringing and he's red all over and he had no idea so much degrading, mean shit could come out of this angelic looking face.

Amadeo doesn't talk much afterwards but sticks around for a little while, back in his jeans and hoodie, and he makes Marius tea and asks if he wants a massage. There are a few minutes that Marius feels the threat of sub drop hovering at the edges, feeling old and stupid, thinking his life has been a waste, but Amadeo is graceful enough to distract him. Doesn't talk much, just enough, asks if he wants to put a movie on, and Marius watches the soft curiosity in his face as he keeps glancing at the screen.

Marius tips him well, thanks him, spends the night in the hotel since he paid for it.

It becomes a regular spot in their calendars. They get a little more elaborate. Amadeo is honest when he's not confident about something, and keeps it professional, but he allows Marius to teach him. Marius shows him all the knots he likes, and teaches him some other methods for impact play. More and more, in the aftercare when they're done, Amadeo's personality comes out. He talks more. Marius even gets him to laugh.

And Amadeo is professional, but he's young. Marius notices when his resolve starts to chip away. Maybe Marius leans into it, even though he knows he shouldn't. Maybe it turns into breaking some rules on their original contract, like when they finally make out. And the time Marius finally reaches to touch the bulge in Amadeo's pants, because Amadeo never gets off in their sessions. Even Amadeo's agency discourages unsafe sex or fluid exchange, and neither of them talk about it when Marius finally sucks him off, and Amadeo comes all over his face.

So what happens when it gets unethical, when they're in too deep? Amadeo tells him one night that he doesn't think he should see Marius as a client anymore, that their boundaries have become too murky, and he suggests someone else that Marius could see instead, but it just turns into them meeting outside the agency. Meeting in the daylight, for coffee, and Amadeo blushes when Marius puts a hand on his leg beneath the table.

"I still want to pay you, you know," Marius says, near his ear. "Not as a client. I just want to pay you."

And just a bit longer before they finally start meeting at Marius's house. Off the books now, no agency involved, but Marius keeps paying him. And texts him through the week, buys him clothes, Venmo's him with a note to treat himself to lunch. Whenever Marius gets paid he thinks about how much he'll pass onward to Amadeo. Sometimes, watching the numbers drain from his bank account feels the same as an orgasm draining his body.

Maybe a year in before they finally fuck. And at first it's still Amadeo in charge. Smacking him on the face and telling him what to do, telling him how fast to go, making demands. Riding him for the first half, staring down at Marius like he's worthless. Stoic for as long as he can before he falls apart whimpering, and then he's just a brat. He doesn't protest when Marius takes control, flips them over, rails him into the mattress. Tears in Amadeo's eyes as he comes on his soft belly, and he presses his hands to his face to hide.

Then, the next time after that, Amadeo actually spends the night.

His name is Armand, he admits one day. Quietly, after dinner, as Marius signs the check. His real name, he means. And he's blushing again, and looking away, and tells Marius he can still call him Amadeo if he wants to. But his name is Armand. If he likes that instead.

And Amadeo was the dom, but Armand is something else.

Marius should have known, when he saw the eagerness, teaching him how to work rope and teaching him the best places to land a flogger and he should've known as Amadeo's façade cracked, every time they've fucked, the way he became so small and needy. He should've seen the way his big wet eyes could follow Marius around the room sometimes.

Subbing was fun for Marius and he needs it sometimes, for sure. But he's in too deep now. He needs both, he needs anything. He needs Armand most of all. And domming Armand is just as good.

#marius/armand #simple italian perv #wow i meant to just drop a quick headcanon i got a little carried away #marius de romanus

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beskarandblasters · 1 year

Text

Everything Has Changed

Ex!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Part two for Tolerate It

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Summary: A year after you saw Din on Nevarro, you’re living there working with Greef Karga like you had originally planned. Things change again when Din returns to Nevarro but this time with Grogu, a new house, and even more stories to tell you.

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, angst, helmetless Din, slight canon divergence, I took some liberties with Mandalorian culture, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, no use of y/n

You left your house and began your early morning walk to Greef Karga’s office, mentally preparing for another day of boring paperwork. You’ve fallen into a monotonous routine here; wake up and get ready, head into the office and file paperwork, head home and make dinner, go to bed and do it all again the next day. Sometimes Karga would give you an off-planet job. He would send you and a few other representatives from Nevarro to try and set up trade with other planets. You even got a vacation. Despite the endless and mind-numbing paperwork, working for Karga did have its benefits.

It’s been a year since you’ve seen Din here on Nevarro. You often wondered where he went after you left him that day. Did he reunite with Grogu? Did he still have the Starfighter? Where does he live now?

You think about the day you reunited with him. You wonder to yourself, did I make a mistake? But you know deep down in your heart you hadn’t. There was no use in staying with a man who didn’t fight for you.

You pushed all of your thoughts to the side and continued your walk to the office. The town started to open up for the day. Street vendors set up their stands and the town center began to fill with bustling people, trying to make it to their day-to-day jobs and errands. It was the start of a regular, ordinary day. You entered Karga’s building to find him standing there with an unreadable expression on his face.

“…What?” you asked.

“He’s back,” Greef said hesitantly.

“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific,” you said, although you knew who he was talking about but you were partly in denial.

“You know exactly who I’m talking about, him,” he said, emphasis on the last word.

Greef knew about your past together. He was there when you and Din were members of the bounty hunters guild. He saw your relationship grow from start to finish and he knew Din was a sore subject for you.

“What’s he doing here?”

“He lives here now.”

“Whose bright idea was that?”

“…Mine,” he said, hesitantly.

“Great. I’ve been able to avoid him the past two times he’s been here and now you’re telling me he’s moving here permanently,” you say in disbelief.

Din came to Nevarro a couple times in the past year. He visited once to look for droid parts for IG-11. That time you were on vacation visiting the hot springs. The other time he came to Nevarro he had all of the other Mandalorians with him. That time you were away for an extended period of time. You were traveling to various planets with some other members of Greef’’s office, looking to set up trade treaties. By the time you came back they were already gone. They were going to retake Mandalore, Greef had told you. But before they decided to do that, they were originally supposed to live on Nevarro. You were relieved to find out they had left. You just missed each other by a few days.

“I’m sorry, but I just wanted to let you know. I’m not trying to play both sides here. I genuinely care about you both.”

“I know and I appreciate that. I would never ask you to choose a side, either,” you said, looking down at your feet.

He patted your shoulder and headed to his office. You decided to do the same. You walked to your desk and plopped down in the chair with a sigh. There was literally nothing you could do about this. You just had to deal with it.

The work day seemed to drag on more than usual. You were typing away on your holo-pad when the idea hit you: ask Greef for another off-planet job.

You rose from your desk and walked up the stairs to Greef’s office. You gave the door a gentle knock and heard him say, “Come on in!”

“Hey… so I just had an idea I wanted to run past you,” you said, fiddling with your hands.

“I’m all ears.”

“Do you have any more off-planet assignments for me?”

His face softened into a small smile. “I know what this is really about,” he said.

You sighed. He saw right through your cover. “Yeah, I know. I know. I’m avoiding him.”

“Look, I’m not here to tell you what to do. I know you’ll do what you think is right. Just as long as the two of you are okay, that’s all I care about.”

You looked down at the floor. “Thanks, Greef. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need any more of my stellar advice,” he laughed.

“I’ll get right on that,” you said, chuckling back at him.

You left his office and returned to your desk. You willed yourself to be brave; to handle this maturely.

What if he’s really changed? What if he’s ready for a real relationship? Something must be different about him if he’s coming back to live here permanently.

You wrapped up your final assignment for the day and packed up your things, ready to go home and contemplate all of this.

But as you exited the building you bumped into a familiar face (well helmet). He was standing there, holding Grogu in a pouch that was slung over his shoulder. You open your mouth to speak but he cut you off.

“Cyar’ika, I know I’m the last person you want to see right now but there’s something I want to show you. Please.”

“Why should I?” you said, folding your arms.

“Just please come with me. After you see it, if you decide you want nothing to do with me then I’ll respect that. But please, give me a chance.”

You took a deep breath and thought to yourself for a moment.

Would one chance really hurt?

“Fine, let’s go,” you said.

He led the way through town and just like last time, heads were turning at the sight of you, drawing in whispers. They’ll definitely have something to gossip about for the rest of the week. The walk to wherever he was going was silent, neither one of you knowing what to say. You reached the edge of town when he stopped for a moment.

“Look, I know what I’m going to say is going to sound crazy given the last time we saw each other but I need you to know that I mean it, cyar’ika. I really do.”

“Okay…?” you said, a little puzzled.

“Can you close your eyes for me?”

You closed your eyes and he asked “Is it okay if I take your hand?”

You nodded and felt the gloved hand softly grasp yours. You could feel him shaking ever so slightly. He must be nervous. He led you out of town and then stopped again after a while.

“Alright, open your eyes.”

You opened your eyes to see a small house, one that was relatively secluded. There was a little pond in the front and you could see frogs swimming around. There was a bench in the front by the door with a little canopy over it.

“What do you think?” he asked nervously.

“Is it yours?”

He nodded and said “And I want it to be yours too, cyar’ika. I want you to live here with me. And Grogu of course. I know it sounds crazy but I can’t picture living here on Nevarro any other way.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now. Let me give you a tour,” he said, squeezing your hand.

He led you inside to a small living area. It was definitely nice but it needed to be furnished more. The only thing in the room was a small couch.

“I know, it needs to be decorated but I was hoping you could help with that… I know it’s something you would really enjoy doing.”

He led you around the corner into a kitchen. Inside there was a small stove, a little kitchen table with three stools, some cabinets and counters, and a refrigerator. It was amusing to see a man covered in beskar in a small, domestic kitchen.

“It’s really cute, Din,” you said, smiling at him.

“I was hoping you would think so…” he said, still sounding nervous. “Over here is Grogu’s room,” he continued, leading you around the corner again and into a small room with a crib. Again not much else in there but with a little love it could be the perfect room for the kid.

“It’ll be perfect for him, Din.”

“He’s excited to have his own space,” he said, looking down at Grogu. “Come on, let me show you our room,” he continued.

He entered the hallway again and led you to the next door, another bedroom, slightly bigger than the last one. The only thing in there was a large bed. It was peculiar to see a real bed for Din. For so long, he had his bed on the Razor Crest (which could hardly be considered an actual bed). And you couldn’t imagine what his sleeping arrangements were like once he acquired the Starfighter.

“The refresher is attached to this room,” he said, gesturing to another door on the other side of the room. “It’s not much but I would love it if you lived here with us,” he continued.

Grogu peered up at you, pleading with his big, dark eyes. How could you say no to him? But this was about more than just Grogu, it was also about Din and whether or not he’s changed. Maybe he really got the message the last time you saw him. You still had to think about it, whether or not you were going to live with him, but something about seeing him now felt like coming home.

“You don’t have to give me an answer now. But maybe you could stay the night tonight?”

You sighed. You could at least give him that.

“Fine. You’re lucky I’m off from work tomorrow,” you sighed.

“Great. I’ll get started on dinner,” he said, returning to the kitchen.

Din cooking dinner? He was really trying to impress you. You knew that once the food is ready you’ll have to eat separately so you decided to spend time with him while he was cooking it at least. He placed Grogu on one of the stools and started pulling ingredients out of the fridge. You sat down on the stool next to Grogu and tried to burn this image in your memory permanently. Din, covered in full beskar, chopping up vegetables and making soup on the stovetop.

This will never get old, you thought to yourself.

“What kind of soup are you making?” you asked.

“Pog soup. Bo-Katan showed me how on Mandalore before I left. She said that since Grogu is my son now I needed to learn how to cook for him properly.”

“I see. So you’ve officially adopted him?”

“Yes, in the Living Waters.”

“You have so much to catch me up on.”

So, he did. He told you about redeeming himself in Living Waters, Bo-Katan joining the covert and leading the Mandalorians, retaking Mandalore, Paz Vizsla's death, defeating Moff Gideon and deciding to leave Mandalore for Nevarro. So much has happened since you last saw him. It made your heart ache, that you weren’t there for him during all of this.

“I’m sorry, Din. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for any of that. That all sounds so overwhelming.”

He set the spoon he was using to stir the soup on the counter and came over to you, grabbing your hands.

“But that’s the thing, mesh’la. I needed to deal with all of that on my own so I could come home to you. I’m ready for it to be just the three of us here, together.”

You gazed up at his visor, partly in disbelief at what he was saying. Throughout the course of your relationship you had never known him to say things like this to you. Most of the time you had to pry for any inclination about how he felt. This was so different from what you had been used to that it felt foreign; like it wasn’t even him speaking. But you knew deep down it was. He’s changed. You’ve changed. Everything has changed. And all of it changed for the better. After years of craving this sort of devotion and intimacy from Din, you were finally getting it.

You both stayed there for a moment, gazing at each other holding hands, exchanging glances that words could never fully articulate until Grogu started making noises indicating that was hungry.

You giggled and scooped him up in your arms. “It’s coming, kid. I promise!”

Din returned to cooking and you bounced Grogu, trying to keep him occupied while dinner was being made. You held him and thought about how much you missed him, too. The three of you being together right now felt complete.

“It’s ready,” Din announced, turning and placing three bowls on the table.

“Do you want me to eat in the living room?” you asked.

“No, there’s no need for that.”

“But-”

But you were cut off; cut off by the sight of Din sitting at the table and removing his helmet. Upon instinct, you threw a hand over your eyes. The only times Din had his helmet off around you were under the cover of darkness.

He chuckled. An unmodulated chuckle. “Mesh’la it’s alright.” He reached for your other hand that was resting on the table and squeezed it. “Look at me.” He sounded so sincere.

You slowly removed your hand from your face and took in the sight of him, trying to memorize every single detail. There he was, sitting in front of you in the kitchen of his new home. This was something you could’ve never even conceptualized. But he was too far away. You couldn’t have the first time you see Din helmetless be from across a kitchen table. You stood up and went over to him, placing your hands on each side of his face. Your eyes were searching all over, not knowing what you should look at first. It was almost overstimulating. His brown eyes looked at you with worry, almost as if he might think you hate what you were seeing. But you could never.

“I just can’t believe I’m seeing your face right now… But why? Why now?” you said.

“After I redeemed myself, I swore to myself I would never take it off again. But something inside me changed once we retook Mandalore and once I adopted Grogu. I’m not saying I’ll take it off all the time but in front of the two things I care about most, why not?”

And with that you gave him a kiss, the type of kiss that was long overdue. Your hands found themselves in his hair. You took in his scent, how his hair felt in your hands, just the feeling of his face against yours. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you even deeper. Maker, this was intoxicating. You could’ve stayed there forever holding him and kissing him. After what felt like a lifetime you pulled away and rested your forehead against his.

“You’ve really changed,” you whispered.

“Hopefully for the better?” he whispered back.

You smiled and kissed his forehead. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

“Eat your dinner before it gets cold, mesh’la.”

You pulled away from him even though at that moment it felt like the hardest thing to do in the world. You returned to your stool and the three of you ate your dinner like a little family.

“I just want to know you better now. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Whatever you want to know, mesh’la.”

You finished your dinner and helped Din clean the kitchen and wash the dishes. Grogu sat by the sink levitating the soap bubbles in the sink, babbling happily, and purposely making them pop in Din’s face…

“Stop that!” Din shouted, although he wasn’t actually mad.

“How can you get mad at this precious little face?” you said, picking him up and blowing the bubbles in his hand, sending them flying. He erupted with laughter which turned into a full on bubble war in the kitchen. And soon enough the counters, the floor, the cabinets and all three of you were covered in soap and bubbles, laughing hysterically.

“Alright. Alright. Let me get him cleaned up and ready for bed,” Din said, wiping up the bubbles on the counter.

“I’ll finish cleaning in here.”

“Sounds good,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

He picked Grogu up and left the kitchen, leaving you to clean, lost in your thoughts.

I could really get used to this.

After you finished cleaning, you headed down the hallway and into Grogu’s room where Din was putting him down for the night. You came up behind him and peered at Grogu in his little crib.

A crib definitely isn’t going to be enough to contain him, you thought to yourself.

“Goodnight, kiddo,” you whispered as Din tucked him in.

You walked out of his room and Din followed, turning off the light behind him.

“Well I guess that just leaves the two of us,” Din said, looking down at you.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you said, smiling suggestively at him.

He led into the bedroom and shut the door behind him, still just astonished that you get to have him right now in an actual bed.

He wasted no time, passionately kissing you and caressing your face. Maker, you missed him. He felt so familiar yet so new at the same time. But this time the newness was welcomed. This time he was really trying for you; fighting for you.

He picked you up and he continued kissing you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and your hands found themselves in his hair. He laid you down on the bed, hovering over you. You got a good look at him in the bedroom lighting. His pupils were blown wide, leaving only a small ring of warm brown. Your eyes mapped out his face, taking in every detail from his facial hair, his wrinkles, his eyes, his lips, everything. This was so rare for you and you wanted to savor every moment.

He slid down the waistband of your pants and pulled them off, along with your underwear. You knew exactly what he was doing. Not waiting a second longer, he licked one slow trail up your dripping sex. And for the first time ever you got to look at as he ate you out. He sucked and lapped at your clit and looked you in the eye as he did it. It was so hot. Anytime you looked away or closed your eyes for a second, he would stop and say “Eyes on me, mesh’la. Look at me as I eat your delicious pussy.” You watched as he licked and savored every last drop. He reveled in all of your pretty little moans, sucking more and more intensely on your clit as you were getting closer to the edge. And when you did cum, it was intense. Between the sensation of cumming against his mouth and looking at him while it happened, it was perfect. As you rode out your orgasm, he licked up every last drop.

He looked up at you and rested his head against your inner thigh.

“How was it cyar’ika? Did you enjoy yourself?”

“It was perfect, Din,” you breathed out.

He smiled and stood up to start removing his armor and his flight suit. You removed your shirt and laid back down on the bed. He hovered over you again and took your hand in his, placing it above your head.

“Are you ready?”

You nodded and he took some of your juices onto his hand and spread it on his already hard cock. He slid inside with your legs over his shoulders and you felt yourself be completely undone by him. Your walls stretched to accommodate his size. The whole time neither of you broke eye contact. If you thought his pupils were blown wide before, they were even wider now. He wanted to take in the sight of you taking his cock without looking through the helmet for once and he was loving every second of it. The angle he was fucking you with hit that angle perfectly. And he picked up the pace you felt yourself get closer and closer.

“Din, please I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me mesh’la.”

And with those words, you did. You looked him in the eye as you came on his cock and he went feral. His thrusts picked up more and more as he was also now nearing the edge.

“Can I come inside, cyar’ika?”

You nodded and then felt him paint your inside with his warm release. You both stayed there for a moment, with him still inside you, looking at each other, almost in disbelief that that just actually happened. He slid out and collapsed next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling him near you.

You thought back to when you saw him last. That time was almost a hasty fuck against the ship and while it was definitely hot, this time was more meaningful.

“I love you,” he whispered, sleep evident in his voice.

“I love you,” you whispered back before drifting off to sleep.

You woke in the morning to the sunlight coming in through the window, casting a ray perfectly across Din’s sleeping face. He looked so peaceful, so beautiful like that.

You couldn’t believe what happened yesterday, but in a good way. When you saw him outside of Greef Karga’s office yesterday you never imagined it would’ve turned out like this.

He stirred slightly, waking up a moment later. “Good morning, cyar’ika. Did you sleep well?” he asked, smiling at you.

“I did. And I have an answer for you.”

His eyebrows raised and eyes widened, anxiously awaiting your response.

“Yes, I’ll move in with you.”

He leaned over to you, placing kisses all over your face, repeating thank you over and over again. You pulled away and stole a kiss from him.

“You just made me and the kid so happy, cyar’ika. You have no idea.”

You smiled at him, laying back down on the bed.

“I’m just ready for the three of us to be together again.”

He grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it.

“Me, too. I’ve dreamed of this for so long.”

You stayed there for what felt like forever, just holding each other.

Everything has changed; for the better.

End note: Hope ya'll liked it! I tried to give a taste of Domestic Din in this too hehe. I posted a poll a few days ago asking whether or not Din should remove his helmet in this and yes to taking off the helmet was the winner! So while it might be slightly out of character for him considering the events of season 3, he really had to win us over ok💅

Taglist: @leithatnight @readingfan @babygirlrex0504 @harriedandharassed @spookyminxy @msiecrane @fandomsinthegalaxies @paleidiot @mikaylacriiistina @angel-with-a-heart

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x female reader #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x female!reader #mandalorian x fem!reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #no use of y/n #the mandalorian #mandalorian s3 spoilers #mandalorian season 3 #mandalorian spoilers #din djarin #fuck it we ball #in a silly goofy mood #pedrostories

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daydream-cement · 1 year

Note

was benched for stately sequoia, can’t wait to see where you take it next!

my request is larissa x reader!teacher where no one really knows they’re dating and they’re just fooling around in larissa’s office, being affectionate or making out, you decide :) someone knocks on larissa’s door and r hides underneath larissa’s desk and “services” her under the desk as larissa has this meeting and has to stay as discreet as possible but r loves to see her squirm.

sorry for a long ask, i am keen to over-explain sometimes :)

Tucked Away

Larissa Weems x reader!teacher smut

"Darling, you have- to go- I have- a- meeting- soon." Larissa spoke between kisses.

You had come to visit Larissa during your lunch break and one thing led to another and you were now on her lap, her lips pressed against your own.

"Mmm, but I don't wanna." You pull away momentarily, a hand pressed to her cheek. You were completely out of breath, the kissing had escalated quickly, but just the thought of her brought a smile to your lips.

"Baby, you have to." Larissa was trying to prevent herself from falling too deeply under your spell, but she was failing miserably. You moved your kisses down her chin, continuing to her throat.

She was absolutely irresistible, her perfume was intoxicating today. You grind your hips down on hers, growling into her neck, "I want you..."

That was enough for Larissa to hear. She took your face in one hand and recaptured your lips, her tongue slipping against your teeth, begging for entrance. God, you loved kissing her. Your hands roaming all over one another, moans of desire humming from your throats.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"One moment!" Larissa called, this wasn't the first time that you had been doing something you shouldn't have been mid-day. You pull back from her, crawling from her lap, glancing down at her.

"Larissa, your lipstick!" You yell whisper, gesturing to your face.

It had smeared in the process of your kissing. Quickly she sprung up from her chair, popping into the bathroom to wipe it away and reapply before she opened the door. In that time frame, you had the most wonderful of ideas. You slip under her desk, awaiting the moment she sat back down.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Alnat. I'm glad you could make it." Larissa lied through her teeth. She had been dreading this meeting as Dr. Alnat tended to be incredibly boring, going on tangents that no one truly cared for.

"No problem, no problem indeed. You know on the way over here, I was thinking of a story that I don't think I've ever told you..." And there he started, rambling on and on about his time as one of the first Nevermore vampires. Larissa fell back in her chair and you could tell from her posture that she was already bored out of her skull. These regular meetings were a typical apart of the job as Dr. Alnat provided a large amount of funding for the school.

You could tell you spooked Larissa when you wasted no time in putting your hands on her knees. She certainly wasn't expecting you to be under her desk.

You ignore her hand swat at you as you guide her legs open. A smile breaking across your face as you saw her wearing the prettiest red lace panties today.

"You certainly do tell the best stories, professor." You could hear Larissa's fake smile as she spoke to the visitor, and with that complement, he dove into a story about his time during the Civil War. They were supposed to be discussing his potential involvement in career day for students, but Larissa was regretting this invitation.

Hoping to bring her some distraction and to bring yourself a wonderful fucking later, you push up her dress the best you can. Reaching a hand out, you stroke the length of her panty clad sex with your thumb, receiving another smack to your hand.

Again you ignore her protests, and press more firmly this time, teasing the top of her mound. You continue this teasing through the entire meeting, probably forty-five minutes to an hour, through every last goddamn story from the elder vampire.

The vampire's assistant was the one who ended the meeting, reminding the doctor that he had a different meeting soon. Larissa was happy to have him out of her office and to have you in her, "Well as always, our conversations are a pleasure."

With that, the vampire finally made his exit. When the door finally shut, Larissa moved her chair backwards, allowing you the space to crawl out, but instead of letting you leave, she spread her legs wider, "Time to finish the job, baby."

You didn't have to be told twice. You dove between her legs, pulling her panties to the side so you could access her extremely wet pussy. All of your teasing and playing had made her incredibly wet and she was ready for you to finish up.

With her legs on your shoulders, you pulled her to the edge of her desk chair, causing her to gasp. You began by kissing her clit, your tongue flicking against the small bud. She had one hand on the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, "Oh, yes, baby. Make me cum."

You tightly gripped her thighs, most likely going to leave bruises against her fair skin. Your tongue traced the length of her pussy, enjoying the juices that you had caused to flow so freely. Finally, you inserted two fingers into her aching hole, adding a third which made her moan freely. It was unlike her not to restrain herself.

"God, you taste so good." You take a break from eating her so you could shower her with praises, your fingers were still at work, however, "I can't get enough of you. I'd spend my life between your legs if you let me..."

"Don't tempt me." Larissa groaned, her hand applying more pressure to the back of your head, silently suggesting that you should apply more tongue in making her cum. You follow her indirect instructions and after you begin licking at her clit, her hips start bucking against your mouth.

You use your grip of her hips to try and keep her steady, but as she neared her orgasm, it became harder to keep her still. With the help of your tongue, fingers, and the grinding of her hips, Larissa finally came. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her head was leaned back against the chair, enjoying the endorphins and oxytocin now flowing through her body.

You smile to yourself, leaning your head against her thigh. You thought just for a moment that looking up at this woman from between her thighs might be the best view in the world.

#larissa weems smut #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #wednesday netflix #fanfic #oneshot #gwendoline christie

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ohanny · 3 months

Text

stabby murder husbands kentakim au!

does this make much sense? no. is it going to be long? yes. am i sometimes very happy about what my mentally ill lil brain cooks up while i sleep? very much so.

tony chen is a rotten super villain in every universe but in this one kenta was his assassin until he finally had enough, turned on his master during the bloodiest night known in these circles, john wick style, and then disappeared off the face of the earth. was tony running the high table? how deep does the lore go? who knows. i was asleep. my brain did not have the capacity to figure it all out.

flash forward some years. kenta is living a normal life. he has a boring office job. he’s reconnected with babe, his estranged brother who ran away from home at the first sight of sketchy activities and was spared from all of tony’s bullshit. unfortunately for kenta, babe - happily married and pregnant - is channelling all his extra hormones and boredom into a mission to socialize his hermit crab of an older brother.

which is how kenta ends up eating dinner in babe and charlie’s warehouse loft of doom, sitting opposite of kim - a regular customer at the couple’s garage and a casual friend. it’s an awkward affair because a) kim can't stop staring b) babe keeps shooting these looks at kenta all “see, i brought you a hot ginger, do something with it” and c) kenta would much rather be at home. unsurprisingly, when kim offers him a ride home at the end of the evening, kenta says no.

this turns out to be a bad call because on his way home, kenta gets jumped. it happens sometimes - after all, he was tony’s weapon for over a decade and made a lot of enemies, no one can escape their past without occasionally being haunted by it. except this time when he limps out of the alleyway, clutching a minor stab wound on his side, there is a car idling by the pavement.

it's kim, rolling down the window and telling kenta to get his ass in. against his better judgment kenta does.

kim speeds off the scene of the crime with the kind of ease and confidence kenta has only ever seen from babe. it quickly becomes apparent that he knows way more about kenta than he should because he starts asking about cameras and when kenta just stares blankly - bleeding all over the nice upholstery - kim laughs and says “don’t worry, even if you got a bit rusty and missed one, i know a guy. or two. since they live with me you'll meet them soon anyway.”

and fuck, kenta should have just trusted his instincts instead of chalking kim making him nervous up to having someone so pretty pay any level of attention to him. he finally finds his voice (and lowkey also his knife) and demands to know who the hell kim is or if he's even called that. “oh i am,” kim answers gleefully, “and you could say i’m a… freelancer.” which, great. just amazing. kenta is being kidnapped by some amateur bounty hunter and his day officially couldn't get any worse.

… but it does. because once they reach their destination, the second he's ushered into an apartment he's greeted by an obnoxiously loud scream of “holy shit, he actually did it!” followed by a slightly less obnoxiously loud “our kimmy here is a big fan!” and then “oh fuck he’s bleeding all over the place, get the med kit dumbass!” and kenta realizes he wasn't kidnapped by some amateur bounty hunter. he was kidnapped by a fucking fan boy. on the bright side they do seem to be capable of basic wound care so there's that.

(yes, the trio is living their best mercenary vigilante life. kenta’s purge of tony happened right as kim was getting into the game and he went full “holy fucking shit, this man took down tony fucking chen and got away with it?” and basically became obsessed with the legendary lore of john wick kenta. so imagine how pumped he was when babe of all people introduced him to his ultimate murder crush goals)

kim: obviously you'll need to stay the night since you're so injured. You can have my room. i’ll just sleep with north and sonic.

kenta: …

sonic: you have a problem with three men sleeping together?

kenta: … no?

north: great! but if you hypothetically did you could ask kim to share with you instead because trust me, he's like super interes -

kim: shut up or i’ll evict you.

north: pls, whose day job is paying the bills here since you only take on charity cases?

kim: my name is on the lease! and i'm being a good person!

sonic: honey, you kill people.

this is where i got with my dream sequence but other things that just make sense in this verse:

the first person kim ever killed was winner. he was a toxic college hook up who kim dumped after few gos but who wouldn't take no for an answer. kim could have dealt with him being a dick on campus but then he started harassing kim’s dorm mates, north and sonic and kim just… snapped.

it all came to head on an alley behind a trashy gay bar. winner tried to grab sonic and kim honestly just meant to beat the shit out of him but went too far. when they read the news the next day it's weird. none of them regret it. they’re happy about it. and when no one knocks on their door to ask any questions, they realize how easy it actually is to get rid of a bad person.

the second person kim kills is a campus dirtbag who likes slipping shit into girls’ drinks and taking them home. they plan it all together but kim goes out alone and after… he's a mess. winner was a crime of passion in the heat of the moment but this is something different. he's all keyed up. he can't settle down and paces around their living room. a man is dead and he thinks he got off clean but only time will tell. he's nervous and elated and half-hard and full of adrenaline and it's sonic who nudges north and goes “look at the poor thing, we should take care of him.”

the night ends with kim’s head on sonic’s lap, sonic’s fingers in his hair, telling him he did well and he's so good when he cries as he's getting fucked into the mattress by north. kim wakes up sandwiched between them, in a mess of limbs. he has a very brief freak out about what the happened - the sex, not the murder - but north shushes him, telling him it’s not a big deal. “we love you, hyungie” sonic shrugs and pecks his cheek. “you two get some more rest and i’ll bring breakfast, okay?” and that's that.

needless to say kenta is in for a culture shock with the northsonickim arrangement. like he's taking a shower with kim and things are getting good when sonic barges into the bathroom, yanks the shower curtain back and goes on a rant of “kim, you gotta tell north to do the laundry because it was his turn but he forgot and now my favorite pants still have cum stains on them!” and kenta is like “um, excuse us?” but kim just rolls his eyes and proceeds to yell for north and then has an entire damn conversation with his dick out while kenta just stands there all 🧍‍♂️. (after he's done chewing north out for the laundry, he turns to sonic like “and you! we talked about this! kenta is new, we don't want to spook him!”)

the whole murder thing will be another conflict. kenta is happily retired. he killed because that's what he was raised to do and he didn't have any other options until he did. kim though? kim kills because he wants to. kim kills because he believes certain people deserve to die.

kim: i have a date with a wife beater at 2am. wanna come?

kenta: stop calling them dates. and you shouldn't be so… flippant about it.

kim, smirking while pulling on his leather gloves: don't tell me you never enjoyed it.

while kenta’s kills were always obvious hits, done using knives and guns, kim likes to deliver justice personally. he warms up using his hands and finishes the job with whatever blunt object he can pick up.

one time kenta’s boring office job takes him out of town for business and kim is climbing the walls. he calls kenta all “please quit and just become a hit man again, the pay is better and you'd be home when i need you” and kenta sighs because yes, his job is boring but he's trying his best to be normal and he has a morning meeting. so he tells kim to go occupy himself with north and sonic

kim: wait.. What?

kenta: don't you guys have sex with each other all the time?

kim: we did, BEFORE i met you

kenta: … huh. well. go fuck or get fucked or whatever before you start hunting pedestrians for stress relief.

kim: is this a trap?

kenta: no? i would never mess with whatever the three of you have.

Kim barging into north and sonic’s room, growling at them to take their clothes off and sonic’s first reaction is “oh shit, they broke up” but then kim’s like “dick first, rings second, i’m going to wife that man so hard he won't know what hit him” and everyone cheers and no one feels bad about having a pre-engagement celebration threesome not involving one of the grooms.

also, pete? did he step up after tony’s death? does he run a business like the continental? is way his weird attic wife that fucked himself over in the business and now can't step a foot outside the hotel without getting his brains blown out the less fun way? in any case he would have an eye on both kenta (because their whole… brotherhood) and kim (because kim is a wild card and truly independent and neither follows nor knows the code).

#pit babe the series #kentakim #northsonic #northsonickim #please play in my sandbox with or without me

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fl3shm4id3n · 1 year

Text

ₗₒₗₗᵢₚₒₚ ₚᵢₙₖ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦.

��ᴇᴊᴀ ʙʟᴜ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʙɪᴍʙᴏ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ), ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴘʀᴀɢᴇʀ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʙɪᴍʙᴏ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: reader is obliviously nice, mentions of zombies, killing zombies, some team mate discrimination?, Prager being nice to reader.

A/N: Idk if anyone knows or has played with game, I wanted to write something involving reader being like Juliet. Ik it's short but meh I couldn't think much to add.

Masterlist

When the team had heard of a new team member joining them, when they saw you, they thought it was a joke. You were probably some daddy's girl who wanted to play military and got what you wanted. They did not take you seriously at all. You were nice to everyone you came across, others weren't as nice to you. They often tease you for being a bimbo, but you didn't seen to mind since you've been called worse before.

Not only that but you hated being in the base, you wanted to go with your team out in the forest and stuff, but you were always stuck doing paper work. It was boring, sometimes you wish you stayed on earth killing zombies instead of doing office work. After you finished your work, you'd be making paper airplanes or just draw with your pink glitter pen. You also hated hearing the people around you saying how you must be an easy lay or betting on who can get you to sleep with them. Sometimes you regretted accepting this job.

Even your team treated you as if you were a dumb child, who needed supervision. Majority of the time you'd be on your own doing your own thing, your team never seemed to invite you to do stuff. When you'd ask if they wanted to do something with you, they'd always tell you that maybe next time, but there was never a next time. You understood that they didn't want to hang out with someone like you, but that's okay.

That day was just a regular day on the base, you were in the recom's breakroom sitting by yourself while the others did there thing. They'd come in and out, you'd say your good morning but they didn't, how rude of them. You were busy painting your nails a bubble gum pink then you heard someone approach you.

"Hello" you looked up and saw that it was Prager, you looked behind you then back at him. "You're talking to me?" you pointed at yourself, he nodded. "I don't see anyone else here but you" he said with a smile, making you laugh a bit. "Sorry, no one really talks to me unless for work purposes" you mentioned. "How have you been? Sit down" you offered, Prager sat down on a chair next to you. "I've been fine, these last few days were okay... how about you?" he asked. "Oh just the regular. Being stuck in here and filling out paper work, it's boring." You pouted.

It went quiet for a moment, but Prager talked again. "I'm sorry about them..." he said, looking down at his feet. "Don't be sorry, if they didn't want me in the team then they should complain to the people who hired me." You said with a smile. "I know but, regardless you're part of the team and we should treat you as such." He commented shyly. You couldn't help but think how cute he was. "It's fine, don't worry about it" you mentioned kindly. "Ya know what, we should be friends" you said, making Prager look at you. "I-I'd like that" he said almost shyly. You smiled widely then reached into the pocket of your skirt. "Here is a little something, I know it isn't big, but I hope you like it." You got his big blue hand and placed a lollipop on his palm. He looked at it for a moment then smiled at you. "Thank you, I appreciate it." He commented.

ₙₑₓₜ ₚₐᵣₜ

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thenightfolknetwork · 4 months

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Hello,

I need help. Or maybe I don’t. Maybe I need someone to tell me to stop worrying? Oh let’s be honest I have no idea what I need, that’s why I’m writing in.

See, I have a perfectly ordinary job during the week. I work in an office. It’s nice. Spreadsheets, cake on birthdays, quarterlies. It’s a boring existence but my afternoons and evenings are my own and the pay’s good. Sapio-Liminal relations are improving, but by bit. Honestly I’m just impressed my coworker got the time off when they wound up expecting in two of their three dimensional shifts.

So that’s during the week and you’d be forgiven for thinking I’m just about the most sapio a sapio can be. My liminal properties tend to activate on Friday afternoons, when I- travel.

Teleport?

Move. I move. To the same general area of a whole new plane of existence. It’s a known family trait- I’ve got a grandfather who became king of a small nation in my secondary plane, and my sister’s the apothecary for the capital city. She sells the really good potions, by the way, so if you’re in the area of Spirits and Sundries or someone gives you a radiant quest to bring ingredients to Amaranthia in the Bronze Quarter, just be polite and she’ll fix you right up.

Ah, but this isn’t about my sister’s business, it’s about me and what I do. See, this shift is so regular that I went and got myself a weekend job, just to have something to do. So if you’re sent to the Caves of Madness just north of the Foresaken Forest, be ready for the Riddle Master!

I’m in the first room of the dungeon, just after you pass the initial key puzzle. I keep my uniform in a chest in there, and there’ s a nice break room off the back. I like the work a lot! I see lots of new people and I’m always gathering riddles- there are some chat standards but I like to mix it up sometimes. They aren’t supposed to be hard, or else what’s the point of trying to conquer a dungeon? So sometimes, I admit, I give hints. There’s always the rude adventurer who attacks me first but when you take a job like this you don’t die, it’s in the fine print. I don’t like cleaning the blood off my stuff, though. Takes ages.

Anyway now that we’ve walked halfway around the block, my point.

I look very plain. Humanoid, two arms, two legs, a beard. It’s never bothered me but I am very distinctly ordinary which tends to be recognizable and last weekend I was in the village during my break and I saw a coworker. Not from this side, not from the Caves of Madness, no. It was Tina, from accounting. She was picking up a quest by the stocks.

And I realized, she might wind up at the Caves of Madness. She might make it through the puzzle door and be faced with the Riddle Master only to realize this Riddle Master is Jeff. From the office.

I don’t have hangups about my two worlds meeting- it’s hard to, when your sister pops in for Christmas still dressed for the Winterscratch Festival, or your brother’s filing out taxes for a whole kingdom over lunch. I just really like my job in the Caves, and I like to think I do it well. Our rating as a starter dungeon’s quite high, and I’m proud of that. What if my transdimensional adventurer coworkers encounter me and just- aren’t impressed? That’s not the Riddle Master, that’s Jeff. He has a rubber band launcher on his desk. His mug says ‘party naked’ with a balding chicken on it and he won’t let HR throw it away.

I don’t want to disappoint adventurers, especially not ones who work with me in my primary plane. I also don’t want to cause harm to my dungeon’s reputation. But aside from the whole ‘moving planes’ thing I am utterly dull. What do I do if my performance isn’t enough to make up for not being fantastical like Mordrath the end room boss or Reyala the sidequest kobold queen?

Is it okay to just be Jeff the Riddle Master?

Thank you for writing in, reader. Your letter serves as an excellent example of quite a common genre of letter we get through the inbox here at the Nightfolk Network and I think it might be rather illustrative for other followers.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but what you've done here is make up a scenario in your head based on the worst possible interpretations of everyone involved, and then worried yourself sick about that scenario coming to pass.

This may sound a little blunt, but please understand, I don't mean that dismissively. I only hope to offer you a little perspective, and to help you come to a more accurate understanding of the situation as it actually stands.

You enjoy your work in the dungeon, and are clearly doing a good enough job to keep your managers happy. None of your previous visitors have expressed any disappointment at your relatively mundane appearance, and it hasn't been an obstacle in the job so far.

Perhaps your co-worker will end up in your dungeon. Perhaps she'll make it to your section, and perhaps she'll recognise you. So what? I don't see any reason why she should be any more likely to be disappointed by you than any of your other visitors.

And even if she is disappointed, that doesn't have to mean anything to you. She's a co-worker, not a treasured friend whose opinion could make or break your self-esteem. You owe it to her to be a conscientious, respectful colleague. That's all. What you get up to outside of work, and whether she enjoys your efforts, is irrelevant.

You haven't let down your dungeon so far, and I see no reason to believe you will in the future. Stop borrowing trouble from the future, and concentrate on having fun and being the same old Jeff the Riddle Master you've always been. He seems plenty interesting to me.

#answered #the nightfolk network #monstrous agonies

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systlin · 2 years

Note

how does one get a job telling people they can't come into a building? is there something i need to put on my resume (very contrary, good at sitting, etc) to make hiring managers find me more appealing for the role?

So my actual day job is as a security officer; I'm the supervisor for my shift.

Telling people to go away has been an integral career skill for me. Telling angry people who are screaming to leave and not come back is a job skill. The best part of my job is that it is an express part of my job to NOT BE NICE TO RUDE ASSHOLES.

Now, tbh being a contrary asshole won't make you automatically good at the job. You still have to get along with your co workers, the clients at the site you work, ect. And for access control, a good deal of it is perfectly innocuous service providers or deliveries who have all the proper permissions and training and you just make polite small talk with them as you contact their site contact and direct them back to wherever they're going.

When I applied for the job....fuck, was it 8 years ago? No, fuck, 9...when I applied for the job nine years back, the things I put on my application that caught the hiring manager's eyes were

Customer Service skills

Willing to work nights and weekends (we don't get weekends or holidays off; sites are usually manned 24/7/365. Schedules vary, but I work 12 hour shifts and that works out to 3 days on/3 off, 4 days on/4 off. I do often work holidays. Holiday pay is higher.

Multitasking skills

Can keep calm in chaotic situations

Not easily intimidated

Basic computer skills. This last one is huge. You would be amazed how many people I've had to coach step by step through saving a word document during training.

MOST of the time, I am perfectly nice and pleasant. I've received regular commendations and bonuses from the security companies I've worked for because so many people comment on how nice and helpful the security lady was. Most people who show up at sites have a job to do there and want to do it and get paid, same as me.

HOWEVER, despite that at least weekly I deal with an asshole. My shift lets me. My boss jokes that it's like rolling a pumpkin full of ground beef into a lion enclosure. Best part of my job. I once worked retail, and telling asshole dudes to get off company property before I have them removed and/or banned from every other location of the huge multinational company I am stationed at is SO excellent.

Now. The important thing to remember as well about security is that yes, a lot of it is sitting for hours watching cameras or doing rounds through the same place over and over. It can be monotonous and boring.

HOWEVER, then sometimes you get a call like "PLEASE SEND HELP THE ENGINE IS ON FIRE" from a driver getting loaded in the plant. The plant which is filled with explody shit and human lives. This happened last Thursday. That, friend, is where I earn my pay.

I did my job. Sounded alarm, notified fire team, locked down the plant to keep anyone else out, ran accountability to make sure everyone in the plant had checked into shelter areas, all that stuff. Fire was out in 5 minutes. But you have to be able to not panic in that moment when you get that call, because otherwise everything can go to shit VERY fast.

So. Hope this helps!

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spotforme · 1 month

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okay so in better than life i think Rimmer says "How on Titan are you gonna pay for that" and i find it pretty interesting, Titan is one of Saturn's moons, now maybe Titan was the last place they stopped at before everyone died so that's why he uses that version of the expression, the place is fresh on his mind and all that, or maybe he ended up on Titan sometime after his divorse and that's why he thinks of it like Earth (in saying the expression like that)

before this continues i'm just gonna say that i will be rambling and nothing else

this is quite early in the show so it hasn't had much time to contredict itsef yet so i'm thinking i can think anything i want about the timeline at the moment. so i'm thinking, remember this is all just bonkers speculation that i find fun that makes about as much sence as the show itself, that Rimmer lived on Titan for a while, not a long while because he doesn't have much time between the devorce and joining JMC, and i know he got previleges to the family dog which means he should've been able to visit Jupiter on regular basis but let's just say he got bored or his family drove him off even further or whatever. point is he made a little life for himself on Titan, maybe a few months, maybe three years, it doesn't matter, but i think it would be interesting what could happen when Rimmer with his peculiarities runs off to another planet's moon and has to adjust to a new society. i have seen a lit of fics where Io is just this 300 years late to modern norms homophobic untrusting society with girls' home strictness levels, and it's pretty funny that so many people have come to that same conclusion even though i've hardly seen any discussion about it (Rimsy's piece of shit family's out there inventing stereotypes for all Ioians lol) back to the point. knowing Rimmer he'd likely feel superior for the upbringing he had and be pompous using his family's achievements as his own, so even if Titan had a chill athmosphere he would likely not get on there either because he just has to be him, and any culture differences might feel like super big deals to him which doesn't help him get comfortable much, probably just fuels his 'out of place' 'never belonging' thing he has made for himself. i'm kindof in a battle with myself now about if he would even get a job, if he would apply for one, like would he go to a coffe parlour and ask for a job where he has to clean the dishes and whatnot when there's no chanse of becoming an officer? maybe if he needed money, i wish i knew how much he had to spare for monthly spending. if he had no need for money then what could he be doing all day, he had to stumble into JMC's workforce sometime. i still believe it most likely that he went straight to them from Io and has been in space sence (except for what little leave they're allowed) but this is a though and i'm skipping with is, okay. another interesting thing about Titan is that it's orbiting the same planet as Mimas, and we all know how gruffy Mimas is. anyway that knowlege just makes my brain bloom with hideous ideas. more likely i think is that he just went there on shore leave and it was a memorable place, it seems pretty from the pictures i've seen so maybe it's just one of the only calming places for him that he yearns to know the tranquility of again, but i've got no bases for that except that it's got a pretty atmosphere.

right-o this end my pointless rant brought on by one singular line, for now at least

#i'm going nowhere with this it's just me rambling about possibilities sorry #red dwarf #tbh i'm still thinking so many thoughts i'm on overdrive but maybe i'll wait until they silidify into something i can actually look at #rather than whatever that block of text was and i also need more info on all the moons' geological features #this stupid show has got me reading about athmospheric composition

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thefact0rygirl · 2 years

Note

omg 🙈 with cody?

Patches, my friend! I wanted this to be full of filthy but I just made myself cry 🥲

Commander Cody x GN!Reader

18+ under the cut (mentions of exhibitionism, roleplay)

Okay SO it’s not as kinky as you might think, but Cody really wants to roleplay.

No, I’m not talking master/servant, doctor/patient, teacher/student blah blah blah.

It's much more tame. Boring even.

He fantasizes about being a regular schmegular citizen. The most he knows about the war is what he catches on the news, which he doesn't see often because he's soo busy with his regular schmegular office job.

It starts out with Cody on Coruscant for a business trip. He's tired after full day of meetings and he's at the hotel cantina trying to take the edge off. That's where he meets you, another regular schmegular citizen looking to blow off steam after a long day. You get to talking, he buys you a drink or two, and the night ends with you going up to his hotel room.

It's hot and heavy, fast and hard, because both of you just have this one night before you're both going back to your boring jobs and boring life.

Maybe even some balcony sex to, the thrill of someone looking up and seeing him making your legs shake.

In the morning, you two part ways. Maybe you share a quick breakfast of hotel coffee before Cody has to catch his shuttle back to his planet.

Just...something that doesn't involve the GAR and the war.

It isn't that Cody is bored with you or with your relationship. Far from it actually.

He just sometimes dreams of being someone else for a night. For both of you to be other people for the night. People not affected by the war, just two regular citizens going about their lives.

Because being a commander is all he's ever known. It's what he was made for, and the idea of being anything else never existed for him.

He never saw a life outside of the GAR, until he meets you.

You came along and while you both are aware of the limits on your relationship/situationship/arrangement, he can't help but start to imagine what it would be like if he wasn't a commander.

The fantasy first comes to him in a cantina on Coruscant.

You had gone to the refresher when he overhears a man at another table lamenting about his job to his date. Complaining something about flimsi-sheets and vlookup formulas (whatever the hell those are).

And it's the way the man is speaking about it that gets to Cody. The man speaks as if some newbie intern messing up some flimsi-sheets was a do-or-die situation. As if this new intern was somehow a fleet of a million battle droids and he was a clone squad of less than 100.

It annoys Cody, but at the same, it shifts something in him.

Last week, Cody was grappling with the reality of Master Pong Krell's betrayal. At the same time, this man was fixing flimsi-sheets.

Cody...wants that simplicity. Or at least pretend for the night that all he has to worry about are accounting lines.

He isn't sure how to ask you for it because there is a part of him that feels guilty. The fantasy of a normal life was never in the cards for him or for you. You both know this and understand there is only so far you both can go with each other. The GAR comes first, duty comes first.

He feels like he is putting you in an unfair position with this sort of request. He doesn't want to scare you off.

So instead, he'll take things slow. Play out his little dream in other ways.

He will ask you not to talk about missions. When on shore leave, he only wears the civvie clothing you got for him. His armor remains stacked and locked away in your closet (out of sight, out of mind). He will accompany you to the market and pretend you're buying groceries for the week. He'll help you cook, packing away the leftovers as if he's going to take the to work the next day for lunch.

#commander cody x reader #commander cody x gn!reader #commander cody x you #commander cody headcanon #vee answers #patchmates

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fandomtherapy44 · 8 months

Text

castiel x reader

Summary: This story is from the perspective of Y/n Winchester. The sister Of Sam and Dean. We will be starting from season four since sadly we did not get Misha Collins as Castiel throughout the whole series. It will start off as a friendship, but it will grow more as the series goes on. I will be skipping some episodes even though they are great episodes they do not push the story forward. I am so excited to get to write this since they are not many Castiel X reader stories out there. Okay without further due Love War & Grace enjoy the Story.

Paring: Castiel X Reader

Word count: 4,088

Warnings: Some language, Typical Supernatural violence, Spoilers for season four of Supernatural

I got the divider from

Firefly Graphics

Chapter 10: It’s A Terrible Life

POV: Y/n

My alarm goes off at 6:00 and I get up happily. I go to my kitchen and start to make my breakfast of eggs, bacon, and grapes. I turn on my favorite song.

Oh!

Ohhhh, yeeeh

I used to think maybe you loved me now baby I'm sure

And I just can't wait till the day when you knock on my door

Now everytime I go for the mailbox, gotta hold myself down

'Cause I just can't wait till you write me you're coming around

I'm dancing around the kitchen and having so much that I don’t notice the time. “Crap I'm going to be late.”

I'm walking on sunshine, wooah

I'm walking on sunshine, woooah

And don't it feel good!

I walk in the coffee shop to get my boss's order with a smile on my face. “Hey brain, how's it going?” ” It’s going good Y/n, the regular” “You know it!” I said back to him I got the coffee, and I went on my way to my job.

I enter the building quickly, being five minutes away from being late. I walk calmly over to Mr. Alder’s office and knock on his door. “Come in” I hear from the other side and enter the room. “Good morning Mr. Alder, here is your black coffee with two sugars and two creamers.” I said placing the coffee down. “Aww thanks sweetheart you're the best secretary in the world.” For some reason a small chill went up my spine when he called me sweetheart. “No problem, it is my job, do you need anything else?” “Nah all you need to do is sit there and be pretty I'll call you if I do though.” With that comment I walked back to my desk.

It was lunchtime and I went to the break room to make a sandwich. My work bestie Lyndsey comes up to me. “Ugg, I swear if Mr. Carson makes me do his basic paperwork one more time, I might commit murder.” “Ha ha right.” “Oh, you have nothing to complain about, you have the top secretary spot in the company, and you've only been here for a month.” “I don’t know, all I have to do is just sit there. I get pretty bored to be honest.” “Oh, to be bored, I envy thee. Did you see Mr. Smith this morning so hot right?” She said, biting her lip. “Uh I don’t know.”

“Girl, are you blind whatever, did you have any more dreams about Mr. Businessman.” “You're just going to make fun of me.” “No, totally not.” I sighed looking into my coffee. “This time I was in a carpark, and I was hurt, and I hugged him, and he hugged back.” “Ohh did it go beyond hugging.” She said, raising her eyebrows up and down. “No no it’s nothing like that, it feels like a friendship.” “Ugg boring.” “You said you wouldn't make fun.” “I'm not, it's just my opinion.” Sometimes Lindsey could be a bitch that’s why she’s my work bestie.

I ran towards the elevator and yelled out for whoever was in there to hold it. “Thanks.” “No problem.” Mr. Smith and I think the other guy’s name was Sam. The three of us were just standing listening to the elevator music before Sam asked us a question. “Do I know you two?” Sam asked us. “Um I don’t think so, Sorry.” I responded. “I don't think so.” “I'm sorry, guys, you just look really familiar.” “Save it for the health club, pal.” With that Mr. Smith walked out of the elevator quickly. “Have a good night, Sam.” I told him. “You too?” “Y/n” “Right Y/n goodnight.”

I got home and got ready for bed and thought about Sam’s question. He did kind of look familiar even though I hadn’t really met him before. Oh well with that I went off to sleep.

The next morning I woke up feeling groggy and my head was filled with my dreams from the night before and I think I saw Mr.Smith and I think Sam in them. Which is really weird because I barley known them and what we were doing was hunting monsters so like what the hell?!

I walked down to Lynsey’s office because she was not in the break room for our daily coffee talk. When I go into her space, she is working hard which she never does. “Lyndsey? Lyn? Why don’t you take a break huh?” I go to touch her shoulder, but she does not take that well. “Don’t touch me Y/n! I don’t have time to sit around all day like you!” I was surprised because yeah, we weren't besties 24/7 but we wouldn't seriously insult each other. “Look Lyn I don’t know what’s wrong but whatever it is I can help you.” “No, you can’t! Just leave me alone. I have to work work…” She said drifting off not looking back at me.

I go to heat up my lunch, but the microwave is busted. “Oh, come on.” I went to the tech floor knowing that was the closest microwave to me. The elevator dings and I walk into a huge crowd of people around the break room, the reason being that a body was being rolled out. I look around and see Sam and Dean again.

Now what the hell is happening. As I sit down, I get a call. “Hello, this Mr. Alders-” “This is Mr. Smith I need you in my office now.” He hangs up and I put the phone down. I walk to his office, and I walk in, and Sam is in here too. “Am I in trouble?” I said because so far this is weird. “No no you're not. Just sit down.” Mr. Smith gestured to the chair, and I did. “Ok so this is going sound weird, but do you believe in ghosts?” Mr. Smith asked, and I was expecting a smile after that, but one didn't come. “He he, I'm sorry ghosts, is there a camera somewhere?” “No, unfortunately not Y/n he’s being serious.” Sam said, looking at me.

“Ghosts? What the Hell are you talking about?” “Okay, listen. What if these suicides aren't suicides? I mean, what if they're something not natural?” “So, what, ghosts are real? And they're responsible for all the dead bodies around here? Is that what you're telling me?” “That’s what Sam and I have concluded, yeah.” “Based on what? Delusion.” I said not believing what I was hearing. “No, Instinct.” “Instinct I think I have the same one.” Now remembering the dreams. “Really?” They both said at the same time.

“Yeah, I've been having these dreams with you guys in it, and we were killing monsters also I saw a businessman.” “Businessman didn’t see him but yes to the ghosts and the monsters.” Sam said. “So, you're telling me that your guy's dreams are special visions and you're some kind of psychics’?” “No. I mean, that would be nuts. I'm just saying something weird is definitely going on around here, right? So, I've been digging around a little.”

“Yeah, I agree with him.” I backed Sam up. Sam pulled at some papers. “I think I found a connection between the two guys.” He explained. “You broke into their email accounts?” “Nice Sam” I compilated him. “Thanks Y/n, I used some skills that I happen to have to satisfy my curiosity.” “So, it turns out Ian and Paul both got this same email telling them to report to HR, room fourteen forty-four.” “HR's on seven.” “Exactly.” “Should we go check this out?” “Like right now?” “No. No, it's getting late. You're right.” “I am dying to check this out right now.” “Right?” “Me too” I added, and we went on our way to room fourteen four-four.

We walk closer to the room, and we hear a man screaming. Sam kicked the door in, and we rushed in, and the man was under a shelf. We go to try to lift it off as we do. I look behind an old man standing there, and he flings Dean back. He walked to Sam with a sparky hand, and I had the thought to grab a wrench and hit him and he disappeared with that. Dean walks over and we lift the shelf off the man. “How'd you know how to do that?” They asked me. “I have no idea.”

Dean’s apartment was thankfully close. “Holy crap, Guys.” Dean said, referring to what just happened to us. “Yeah. I could use a beer.” Sam said. “Yeah, put me down for one too.” “Oh, sorry, Guys. I'm on the Cleanse. I got rid of all the carbs in the house.” “Hey. How the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?” They ask me. “Crazy, right? And nice job kicking that door too. That was very Jet Li. What are you, like a black belt or something?” “No. I have no clue how I did that. It's like...we've done this before.” “What do you mean, before? Like Shirley MacLaine before?” “No. I—I just can't shake this feeling like I—like I don't belong here. You know? Like I should do something more than sit in a cubicle.” “I think most people who work in a cubicle feel that same way.”

“No. Well, look, it's more than that. Like, I don't like my job. I don't like this town. I don't like my clothes. I don't like my own last name. I don't know how else to explain it, except that...it feels like I should be doing something else. There's just something in my blood. Like I was destined for something different. What about you? You ever feel that way?” “I don't believe in destiny. I do believe in dealing with what's right in front of us, though.” “What about you Y/n.”Dean asked me. “I feel the same as I make my own future.” “All right, so, what do we do now?” Sam asked, which was a good question cause what the hell do you do in this situation? “We do what I do best, Sammy, N/n. Research.” “Okay. Did you just call me Sammy?” “And me N/n?” “Did I?” “I think you did. Yeah. Don't.” “Yeah, please don’t” “Sorry.” He goes to sit at his laptop.

“Oh, jackpot.” “What you got?” Sam and I walked over to Dean. “I just found the best site ever. Real, actual ghost hunters.” “Oh wow, cool!” I said sitting next to Dean. “These guys are genius. Check it out.” “Instructional videos.” Sam pointed out. Dean hits play “We know why you're watching.” These two guys were in lab coats in front of a table. “You've got a problem.” “A ghost problem.” “A ghost-related problem. A ghost—it's like a ghost-adjacent pr—it's like a problem that's—and the ghost is—” “Whatever. You've come to the right place. The only decent place, really, because the Ghostfacers know how to solve it.” “Period.” “Watch and learn.” “See, the first step in any supernatural fight:” “Figure out what you're up against.” Both of them said together.

I went onto the computer and looked up the company’s history. There was a picture of an old man next to the article. “That's him. That's the ghost.” Dean pointed out over my shoulder. “P. T. Sandover. Died 1916. Devoted his life to his work. No wife, no kids.

The article text visible next to the picture reads "Office 1444 was considered to be the center of the company's operations, with Sandover himself overseeing all details of any construction project the company undertook. / Considered to be a difficult person to work for, P.T. Sandover had an exceptionally high standard of quality, often marching onto construction sites and halting all work until he personally inspected each aspect of the structure. Aiming for perfection is perhaps why the Sandover legacy is so impressive, dominating the industry with the scale and scope of its projects.” “Used to say he was the company, and his very blood pumped through the building.” Sam read. “Wow, okay. So slight workaholic. Maybe he's still here, you know, watching over the company, even killing for it.” Dean theorized.

“Plus, turns out this isn't the first time people started killing themselves in the building. 1929.” “Yeah, but lots of guys jumped off lots of high rises that year.” “How many companies had seventeen suicides?” I added in. “Phew. Okay, so P. T. Sandover, protector of the company. His ghost wakes up and becomes active during times of grave economic distress.” “Well, I mean, the worst time we've seen since the Great Depression—” “Is now. Yeah, now sucks. My portfolio's in the sewer. I don't even wanna talk about it.” “So Sandover's helping the bottom line—” “By zapping some model employees.”

“Yeah. I mean, Ian and Paul. It was like he turned them into different people.” “Perfect worker bees, exactly. So devoted to the company that they would commit hara-kiri if they failed it.” “Oh my gosh Lyndsey was acting like that. Now we abustley have to do this.” “One more interesting fact. The building wasn't always that high. Used to be fourteen floors. And the room where the ghost attacked, fourteen forty-four? Once upon a time, that was the old man's office.” Of course it was.

We went back to the Ghostbusters videos. “Once you've got that thing in your sights—” “You kill it.” Good to know. “Using special ghost-hunting weapons.” “First, salt. It's like acid to ghosts.” “Burny acid.” “Not LSD.” “No. It's a bad trip for ghosts. Next up, iron.” “That's why the wrench worked.” I concluded. “Pure power in your hand.” “Dissipates ghosts instantly.” “Next little trick. We learned this from those useless douchebags—” “That we hate.” I wonder who pissed them off so much. “The Winchesters. Well, except for the sister who was nice to us, she was also hot.” “Yeah hot.” He looked off like he was thinking about this woman. “Uhh right back to the ghosts. Gun.” “Shotgun shell. Pack it up with fresh rock salt.” “Very effective.” “Very effective.” “Winchesters still suck ass, though. But the sister.” “Affirmative. Suckage major. But the sister.”

We pack two duffels of iron pokers and salt. “Where do we even get a gun?” Dean questioned. “Gun store?” “Isn't there like some kind of waiting period or something?” “I think so.” “Well, how in the hell—” “I don't know. Seems pretty impossible, honestly.” “Right.” I mean who can just get guns on a whim.

Back to the video. “The aforementioned super-annoying Winchester douchenozzles but the sister also taught us this one other thing. You have to burn the remains.” “Okay, this next part gets a little gross. Sometimes you might have to dig up the body. Sorry.” Eww “It's illegal in some states.” “All states.” “Possibly all states.” I look up where our body is buried. “Sandover was cremated.” “What? So what do we do now?” “Now, if the deceased has been cremated—” “Don't panic.” “Don't panic.” “Just gotta look for some other remains.” “A hair in a locket, maybe. Fingernails. Baby teeth.” “Milk teeth.” “Genetic material. You know what we're talking about.” “Go find it.” “Godspeed.”

I am terrified to go back but Lynsey is under this ghost’s spell I guess, and she needs help so here I am back in this cursed building. We entered the elevator. “Set your cell phone to walkie-talkie in case we get separated.” Dean commented. We go to search in the old man’s office Sam, and I are searching the desk when we get found out by the security officer. “What the hell are you doing here?” He asks us.”Uhh, a new cleaning service.” I responded back trying to not get us arrested. “Yeah right. Come with me.” He grabs the both of us. “Man, listen. Look. It's okay. We- we work here.” Sam tried to explain. “Whatever. Tell it to the cops.” He drags us to the elevator.

We awkwardly stand there when there is a cold spot when the elevator absurdly stops. Sam and I look at each other knowing what was going on. The guard goes to use his emergency key to open the door. “Well, come on.” Something makes an ominous sound. Sam and I are thinking the same thing Hell to the no. “Last time this happened, it took them two hours to get here.”

“Let’s just wait here I think I might have some uno cards on me.” They both look at me like your crazy girl. The guard Shimes through the door and he turns around to us. “Seriously, we’ll wait.” “Look, I don't have the rest of my life.” As he was saying the doors slam shut oh his body. And we get sprayed in blood. “Hey. You guys, okay?” Dean asked through the phone. “We’ll call you back.”

We regroup at the main lobby. “Whoa. That's a lot of blood.” “Yeah, we know” “Right. So, uh, in there.” Dean gestured to the display of P.T. gloves. “P. T. Sandover's gloves.” “Yeah, how much you wanna bet there's a little smidge of DNA in there? You know, like a fingernail clipping or a hair or two? Something.” “Sweat.” I added in. “So, you ready?” Sam asks us. “I have no idea.” “Me neither.” “Me too.” The boys hit the glass, but Mr. Old man shows up. All three of us hit him with the iron pickers. “Oh. Nice.” He reappears and he flings the boys back. “Dean! Sam!” P.T. is about spark them. I scramble to get the lighter. “Sorry I'm forcing you into retirement.” I said as I lit up the gloves. And he lights up like a Christmas tree and vanishes. "That was amazing.” “Right? Right?”

Dean hands me the first kit and I'm patching up Sam. “Wow you're really good at Y/n.” “Yeah, I don’t know, I've always been good at it, thanks.” “Man, I gotta tell you, I've never had so much fun in my life.” Dean said sitting next to us. “I feel the same and I thought the bachelor was the craziest thing in my life.” “Was a hell of a workout too, wasn't it?” “Yeah, you can say that again.” “We should keep doing this.” Sam says very seriously. “I know.” Dean replied in a joking way when I was thinking about his words. “I mean it. There gotta be other ghosts out there. We could help a lot of people.” Sam went on with this. “Right, we'd be like the Ghostfacers.”

“No, really. I mean, for real.” “What? Like, quit our jobs and hit the road?” “Exactly.” “How would we live?” “You gotta be kidding me. How would we get by? With stolen credit cards? Huh? Eating diner food drenched in saturated fats? Sharing a crap motel room every night?” “That's all just details. What about you Y/n?” Sam asked me. “Uhh I don’t know Sam, this is a good job for me.” “Do you even like your Job I mean all you do is get Mr. Alder coffee! All right. Um. Confession. Remember those dreams I told you about with the ghosts? I was fighting them. With you guys. We were these, like, hunters, and we were friends. More like brothers and sister, really. I mean, what if that's who we really are? I mean, you saw us back there, working together. The ghost was scrambling people's brains. What if it scrambled ours?”

“Sam, that's a little insane.” “Is it? Think about it for just one second. What if we think this is our life, but it's not?” “Hey, man, the ghost is dead and we're still standing. I mean, I'm sorry, but—” Dean started to say. “Look, all I know is this isn't who we're supposed to be.” Sam stood his ground. “No. I'm Dean Smith, okay? Director of Sales and Marketing. I went to Stanford. My father's name is Bob, my mother's name is Ellen, and my sister's name is Jo.” And when he said that it felt so wrong. “When was the last time you talked to them? To any of them? And you Y/n?” “I don’t really have any family to talk to.” “See that’s what I'm talking about, cause I only moved here cause I just broke up with my fiancée, Madison. But I called her number, and I got a damn animal hospital.” I try to hold my laugh back at that line.

“Okay. What are you saying? Are you trying to say that my family isn't real? Huh? That we've been injected with fake memories? Come on.” Dean was getting irritated at this point. “All I know is, I got this feeling in my gut. And I know—I know that deep down, you gotta be feeling it too. We're supposed to be something else. You're not just some corporate douchebag and you Y/n are not just some pretty secretary that gets coffee. This isn't you Guys. I know you.” Dean answered. “Know me? You don't know me, pal. You should go.” I leave with Sam and stop him. “Look Sam, the girl you're describing sounds incredible but that’s just not me.”

The next morning, I was walking to Mr. Alder’s office with his coffee, and I was thinking about what Sam said last night. “Knock knock Come in.” I heard and I entered. “Here’s… your coffee.” I set it down and went to leave but he stopped me. “Mrs. F/l/n I would like to talk about something, sit down please.” So, I do. “Look I think you're an amazing employee and simply put I want you higher on the food chain.” I was a little bit shocked.

“You want me in a company position? Wow I'm flattered but are you sure?” “Yes, I am so sure that this would be your pay raise.” He writes down a number and slides it to me. My eyes widen like saucers. “That’s a whole lot more than now to keep me here.” “Well, you are worth it now you would have to work for it properly more than others because you are starting from a low level but in like fifteen years maybe ten it you could be it.” I look down at the number and think about it. “Now Mr. Alder I really appreciate it and I am totally thankful, but I will be giving in my notice.” Now he looks shocked.

“Please tell me this is a joke Y/n.” “No Mr. Alder I just realized that sitting in a desk for the rest of my life and getting coffee from other people is not for me. It's hard to explain. Um. It's just that this—this is—it's just—it's not who I'm supposed to be.” Mr. Alder smiles at that. “Y/n, Y/n, Y/n you and your brother are a lot alike.” “My brother? What are you talking about?” He walks over to me and touches my forehead and it was like the air had shifted and everything came flooding back.

“What the fuck? Am I wearing heels god my feet hurt.” Mr. Alder laughs at that. “You- did I—did I just get touched by—you're an angel, aren't you?” He nods. “I'm Zachariah.” “Fantastic. You want me to throw you a parade.” “I'm hardly a simple angel, Y/N. I'm Castiel's superior. Believe me, I had no interest in popping down here into one of these smelly things” “But after the unfortunate situation with Uriel, I felt it necessary to pay a visit. Get my ducks in a row.” “” Unfortunate situation” he almost killed me.”

“Well, you're not so you should be grateful.” “What the hell does not that even mean?” “It means that you're alive and hunting” “Is that what this little passion project of yours is for?” “Exactly you are a Winchester, hunting is in your blood, and you will help your brother stop the apocalypse.” “I am not just a helper.” “Of course, not but you will always be by your brother’s side, right?” “Yes but-” “perfect then you be on your merry way to your codependent brothers.” I start to walk out but I stop. “Zachariah angel or not I will stab you in the face if you ever call me sweetheart again.” And with that I slam the door behind me.

Hey oh, my gosh we have gotten to chapter ten like wow I just wanted to say thank you for reading and liking when I started, I just did for me and I'm so happy that others have liked this as much as I have! Also did anyone peak the song that Y/n was playing in the beginning. It was a little easter egg for a future character that I am so excited to get to. That Animal hospital joke of Madison gets me every time the angels went off with that one. If you like the originals, I started a Klaus x reader so yeah hope I see you over there see you next time!

#castiel x reader #castiel #castiel x y/n #spn fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #team free will #spnfandom #supernatural #Supernatural Season 4 #castiel x you #Castiel x reader series masterlist #bobby singer #bobby spn #cas spn #cas x reader #cas x y/n #cas masterlist

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roppongi-division · 5 months

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Zakari's Thoughts on Third Members

Saburo Yamada

"Saburo's another good friend of mine, though I'm not as close to him as I am to his older brothers. Still, it's kind of a shock that he's only in middle school considering how smart he is. It also doesn't help that he's the youngest person in the D.R.B., or that his birthday comes late in the year, like mine. But he's still a cool guy, despite his personality. I'm actually teaching him how to play games of chance. He's pretty good! Unlike Jiro, he's got a killer poker face!"

Rio Mason Busujima

"I met Rio while exploring Yokohama once. Normally, I try to keep within the city. Venturing on the outskirts is a bit boring since there aren't a lot of high places to jump from. But curiosity got the better of me, so I decided to head towards the woodlands. I certainly wasn't expecting to find someone living, least of all a former army official. He was pretty nice, though. We played a few card games, and he was surprisingly good. I don't know if he played before, or if he was good at keeping a straight face, but he actually beat me a few times. To thank me, he gave me some of his homemade food. I know it looked gross, but it actually tasted pretty good!"

Dice Arisugawa

"Ugh, I wish my parents would get off my back about Dice and me being friends. He and I are one and the same, so it's no surprise we're cool with each other. Apparently, they're afraid that he's going to drag me down with him. But how do they know it's not the opposite? How do they know I'm not the one dragging him down? But this is just one of those topics where the three of us agree to disagree. My dad says I can do what I want, but he's not responsible for what I do as a result. Gee, thanks pop."

"Besides that, it's because of Dice that I was able to meet Lucille. I know she was frustrated that I beat her, but now... well, we'll pretty happy with each other, even if I do know that she's probably biding her time to try to trap me in something. But hey, I'm looking forward to it!"

Doppo Kannonzaka

"This guy... he both infuriates and worries me. Why? Well, for one thing, I've seen what this guy can do when he's pissed off. He's got a surprisingly hot temper. So what I want to know is, why the hell doesn't he use that temper to knock the people who are bothering him at his job, huh?! I mean, if someone was bothering me as much as those folks at his job do, I would have gone off a long, long time ago! But no, he chooses to just go through with it! It's no wonder his boss and co-workers walk all over him! And then he has the gall to get upset at Dice for trying to earn money an easy way! Why don't you try changing you work environment before you judge someone, you cowardly piece of crap!"

"...Anyway, that's why this guy infuriates me. But the reason he worries me... it's because I'm afraid that I may have to become like him someday: a regular officer worker making minimum wage, doing the same crap every day. Sorry, but that's not for me. If the choice is between living like Doppo or living like Dice, I'll take Dice's way of living any day of the week."

Rei Amayado

"...I'll just say it plainly: I don't like this guy. I don't know what reason he has for abandoning his own sons, and I don't care. There is no excuse in the world for it. And then, after revealing yourself to your sons, instead of apologizing to them, you choose to just go back to doing what you've been doing, being a lapdog for the government, while conning people out of their funds. I know I bitched at Doppo, but at least that guy is working to earn his money, no matter how bad his work environment is. You should take a page out of his book, pal."

Hitoya Amaguni

"I don't know Hitoya all that well. When I go to Nagoya, it's mainly to hang out with Kuko and Jyushi. Hitoya sometimes joins in, but it's more out to keep an eye on us than actually trying to participate. He reminds more of a grumpy uncle than anything. ...I wonder what would happen if Kuko and I started calling him that. Oh, the look on his face! We've got to try that out sometime!"

#hypmic #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic #hypnosis mic oc #hypnosis microphone #zakari hiroya #private party #roppongi division #saburo yamada #rio mason busujima #dice arisugawa #doppo kannonzaka #rei amayado #hitoya amaguni

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5uwabbit · 9 months

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Boring class at 7, so my brain gathered…

Food for thoughts!

(Context: What ifs in role swap-ish AU, that one art of researcher Kate I did)

It would be funny if Kate was with Isaac in the oil rig. We can even count Kellyn too. 3 genius in one place but two being problems?? Bro’s gonna change the name from Team Dim Sum to Team Day Care (They can’t rid these kids cuz they’re too damn smart!). Also because crystal corruption is an interesting topic— Blake hall incident — to explore!

Not only you get Kellyn and Kate destroying the sinis trio in Isaac coding lessons, we can get Kate being silly and upgrading the tools in the office (Insert Kincaid screaming after he found out the hairspray was upgraded to razor blade 2 in 1).

Plus.. we have an interesting mix of personalities. Isaac being easily encouraged and dive right into the research not knowing what’s up. Kate as the middle ground between the other two, seems relaxed and going with the flow. Then you have Kellyn who is more critical, he tends to act on his own, a bit stubborn so they have to convince him to do things. You’re gonna be almost convinced he’s doing all this for the sake of imported, special newspaper from Fiore or other regions. He’s so unseriously serious… aka He got his own agenda and nobody in the office knows why! (Insert him sneaking around the base to find out whats up).

You bet Kate realizes something was up first because Kellyn was busy “theorizing” and “overthinking” things. (Insert her running across the hallways and stumbling into Team Dim Sum mission things). Whoops.. sorry teach.. uh.. boss?

Well typical story would be… they found out and this big show down ensues but you know what? Those three are smart minds. Yeah, Kate would pretend that it’s just a normal thing and continues to do stuff like regular. Ohhh but now Kellyn knows and they’re probably trying to convince Isaac. So wowzies, three teens plans behind the back of Team Dim Sum.

Other possibilities:

to be honest I know they can’t convince Kellyn to be a researcher. If I were Kincaid I’d look at his progress over the union and be like… tsk.. it’s a loss that I couldn’t put influence on that child. He has super great prospect, but hard to convince unlike Isaac is.

But I’m going with putting him in the lab because it’s so much funnier. I’m not missing out on him being savage to Sinis Trio (that would be hella funny).

What if we count Keith in? He got his job as a ranger and guess what? He’s breaking into the oil rig. Insert this: unexpected reassemble. Omfg you guys became nerds??? (He’s not rude, just silly like that). Now now, the showdown will be much more epic. Either

(1) it’s messy as hell. Everyone is just surprised. Maybe they ended up going back with Sven boat and bringing back important data.

(2) “Oh yeah, we were about to leave.” Keith thinking oh I’ll rescue you guys! Nahhhh we got this. Kellyn signaling Kate and Isaac to activate the showdown buttons and they just. Smoothly goes away with some diving equipments they stole from the boss. Oh shit I forgot Sven 💀 UHH maybe he’ll be driving the boat alone back.

Okay that’s it. That’s how far my brain goes. Thank you for the kind words.. I’ve been brainrotting for ages. You bet I’ll be super duper normal about them all 😭

I’m still figuring things out here hehe.. I think I’ll find out how to do a poll and do that sometimes

#pokemon ranger #kate #kellyn #shadows of almia #3atonage #oh wait..#researchers gang I mean #I can’t believe my brain plotted that #guess what class it was

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triflesandparsnips · 2 years

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All right, let's talk about Mary Bonnet and Evelyn Higgins.

So we know that Mary declared Stede dead at some point prior to his arrival at British-sailor camp. We also know that it's been enough time for her to develop a new style, get a painting tutor, fuuuuuck that painting tutor (GOOD JOB, GIRL), fall in love with that painting tutor (maybe before or after the fucking, whatever, GOOD JOB, GIRL), develop her own little friend circle of widows, and get enough of a reputation that she could actually draw guests to an art show who weren't her immediate friends and family.

My thought? It wasn't more than a month after Stede left that Mary got him declared dead. Depending on when exactly he left, it could've been less than a week.

Imagine, if you will, the bills coming due. Stede doesn't go out much, so perhaps no one's noticed that he's missing, but-- the tradesmen must be paid, wages have to be dispersed to the servants, the home farm needs supplies... there has to be money. Mary might have her own pin money she can spend from, and that might tide over one or two bills, but even that needs to be replenished from Stede's accounts. Accounts that Mary herself can't very well demand that Stede's man of business hand over to her because her husband has decided to fuck off to parts unknown.

I mean, she does try. But Mr. Barkley is a bit of a bastard, it turns out, and now she's on the street in front of his offices and trying very hard not to cry.

This is how the Widow Higgins finds her.

The Widow Higgins -- Evelyn, the towering blonde will correct -- is something of a personality in Bridgetown. She owns the local dress shop outright, and since there's not much by way of competition the women of town are generally forced to put up with Evelyn's... peccadilloes. The smoking, for one. The matching eyepatches. The accent. Mary has always found herself fascinated by what little she's seen of the woman-- but Evelyn rarely attended any of the ladies who actually frequented her shop. If she was there at all, she seemed to prefer sticking to the doorway between the front of the shop and the back, ready at a moment's notice to snort softly at the indecisiveness of the gentry, smoke curling up like a dragon's breath from her nose, before pulling back the curtain and disappearing into the seamstresses' domain.

Evelyn was mysterious. She was independent. She was tall. Mary didn't really know why all of that equaled up to someone she rather desperately wanted to be friends with, but there it was. Not that Evelyn had ever shown any interest back-- once or twice, maybe, when Mary had asked for her bodice to be cut a little lower, or to try some color other than the pale pinks and yellows her mother had insisted were the only shades that suited her. But Evelyn's attention never stayed very long; Mary was a married girl, and just as silly as all the others, apparently, and that was that.

It probably hadn't helped that Evelyn had met Stede. Stede had a habit of wanting to attend this, of all Mary's regular errands, though he'd never invited her to join him on his day-to-day. She rather thought she'd like to learn about the property and what went into its upkeep, and if she'd wondered, sometimes, if maybe Stede would hold her hand as he helped her over a stile, or maybe he'd find a convenient bale of hay somewhere that unlocked the core of spontaneity and, and heat she thought he might have somewhere in him that never seemed to make itself known in their more private evenings... but. Well. If she'd ever wondered all that, she knew better than to say it.

Which was fine, actually, because he always made a face about it whenever she'd brought up his tending to his responsibilities, and tried to reassure her as to how boring it was, and then ask if she wouldn't rather get another dress. Stede seemed to think that was all she was good for: dresses. And then he'd come with her and spend all day just talking about fabrics and cuts and bothering Evelyn about the latest fashions from the Continent until Evelyn left without a word and Mary inevitably ended up in their carriage home, sitting silent next to Stede and wondering why in the fuck her husband thought she had no thought in her head beyond the latest bit of brocade.

So. It was with some surprise that standing outside Mr. Barkley's misogynistic shit of an establishment and trying not to scream led to the Widow Higgins -- Evelyn -- stopping immediately in front of her, looking her up and down, and saying, "Problem with the husband?"

Mary, blinking hard and uncertain whether speaking was really an option for her at the moment, nodded.

Evelyn flicked the end of her cigarillo, ignoring the ash that dropped onto her blood-red dress in favor of staring at Mary. After a moment, a smile crooked up the side of her mouth, making her one eye crinkle. "Thought so. C'mon. I'm buying."

And so it was that Evelyn dragged Mary into that mysterious back room of her dress shop, past the seamstresses at work, and then farther on into her personal office, where she sat Mary down on an overstuffed couch, plied her with more than a little whisky, taught her to smoke, and drew up the steps -- clearly memorized, clearly boiled down to its fastest application -- that Mary would need to take to declare Stede dead and herself the proxy for his accounts until Louis came of age. Evelyn also invited her to the Weekly Widows' Business Tea and Support Group, offered to buy off any clothes that Mary would be happier seeing the back of so that she could cover expenses in the meantime, and casually mentioned that Mary had tits to die for.

It took a few hours, all told, but most of that was because Mary was damned if she'd leave before she managed at least one smoke ring.

And the tits thing was pretty excellent as well.

#our flag means death #evelyn higgins #mary allamby bonnet #mary bonnet #backstory fun #free plot bunnies #if you write it link it #do the thing

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